Hatstall
by MargaritaVille108
Summary: In his seventh year, Neville Longbottom proved himself to be a true Gryffindor, surprising not only his friends and classmates, but also himself. However, was there someone, or some hat, that always knew Gryffindor is where he truly belonged?


It has been so long since I have written a one-shot. I am so excited to be writing again. Note: The bolded words are taken from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone Chapter 7, The Sorting Hat.

Spoiler Alert: This one-shot contains extra information provided by J.K. Rowling on the Pottermore website.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The credit belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling

Hatstall

**"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."** The intimidating eyes of Professor McGonagall scanned the group of nervous first years, yet they seemed to linger on Neville Longbottom. Neville, and from what he could see everyone else, had noticed that her attention seemed to be on him for a while. He didn't like her stare. It was terrifying. She didn't look like someone to cross, not that Neville planned on crossing anyone at school. She excused herself from the group instructing them to wait quietly for her to return and take them to be sorted.

Neville attempted to fix his cloak which he had fastened under his ear. He could hear two boys close by talking about the sorting. The dark haired boy with glasses asked what is was and the red haired boy said some other boy said it was some kind of test. Neville quickly felt a knot in his stomach. A test? He was always told you just had a hat put on your head—plain and simple._ But what if it was all a lie? No, Gran wouldn't lie to him. Would she?_

Neville's struggle to calm himself about the sorting was interrupted with gasps from the other students. It didn't take long for him to realize what caused the commotion. A large group of ghosts were floating nearby. Neville caught a glimpse at some of the students' faces. He figured they were muggle-borns by the look of their expressions. The only person he knew to be muggle-born who looked more impressed than taken aback was Hermione Granger, whom shared a compartment with him on the train. She read probably every book ever written about the magical world. She knew more about his world than he did and he was sure more than a lot of other adult witches and wizards. Neville had seen a ghost once in his life before at an old house in Scotland that belonged to one of his Gran's friends. He knew about the Hogwarts ghosts so he wasn't entirely surprised to see them, but they still were a bit eerie looking. What he found the most strange was they seemed to be so ignorant to the fact that they were, well ghosts, they weren't exactly normal, _but then again, what could be more normal for a ghost than being dead?_ They seemed to be in the middle of a discussion.

**"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-" **stated one of the ghosts who looked like a small, plump monk. **  
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"  
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.  
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded mutely.  
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know." **Neville smiled slightly. He liked this friar ghost. He seemed nice and he believed in second chances. Neville was sure he would need a lot of those. He was from Hufflepuff. Neville heard that Hufflepuff basically took anyone. He was pretty sure he'd be sorted there. Now seeing this ghost, it didn't seem bad at all. In fact, he hoped to be sorted into Hufflepuff.**  
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."** Neville turned his head to see that Professor McGonagall had returned. In response, the ghosts exited through the wall—another strange event to see up close. Neville tried not to seem too impressed by it. He didn't want to draw any attention to himself while Professor McGonagall was around.

**"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."** Neville scurried into a place in line trying to stay in the middle of the pack. He definitely did not want to be in front. _ Who knew what was going to greet him on the other side? _He didn't want to be in the back either. He had a tendency to always fall behind. It was much easier to do that if he were last in line.

They walked across the hall and through a pair of large doors. All of the stories he heard of Hogwarts from Gran and other family members, even the pictures from his parents' school days could never have prepared him for what he saw. The hall was enormous. Four long tables took up most of the room, each almost filled with students wearing their robes and black caps. The older students bore excited, welcoming expressions, except for some students at the table closest to the doors who looked rather un-amused. They had to be Slytherin. Neville tried to avoid looking at the Slytherin table. He heard stories about them. They were supposedly very mean. There weren't many bad witches and wizards who did not come from Slytherin. He knew of one in particular. Once at breakfast he asked his Gran about the four houses wondering in which one he would be placed. Gran explained that it was up to the Sorting Hat to decide and she was sure that Neville would do well in any of the houses (although she didn't sound very convinced), except Slytherin. To her, Slytherin was out of the question. She went off on a rant about Slytherins and their horrible ways. In her anger she ended up sending the frying pan through the kitchen window. She even let the name Bellatrix Lestrange slip. She was the witch responsible for what happened to Neville's parents. Whatever house she was in, Neville wanted to be nowhere near it.

Trying to take his mind off Slytherin, Neville attempted to take in the rest of the Great Hall. It wasn't until the group almost had reached front of the room, near the head table, when he looked up to the ceiling and saw that it really wasn't a ceiling at all, but the night sky. Well, according to Hermione it was bewitched to look like the sky, but it could have fooled him.

Once they reached the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall came to a halt. She walked over towards a side door near the head table to retrieve what looked like a stool. Neville looked up at the head table. There sitting in the center was Albus Dumbledore. Neville stopped himself from gasping. Albus Dumbledore was one of, if not, the greatest wizard of the age. Just to be in the same room as him was incredible. Professor McGonagall carried the stool over to where the first years were standing. On top of it, she placed a very tattered hat. Neville didn't mind appearing confused at the sight of it. Everyone else seemed to be too. For Hogwarts being such a grand school, having such an ancient, weathered-looking hat seemed slightly nonsensical. Within second of Professor McGonagall's placing the hat on the stool, a tear in its brim opened, apparently its mouth, and it began to sing. Neville stared at it, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, for the entirety of the song. He found it very helpful that that hat gave descriptions of each house, but also very unnerving. Professor McGonagall said that she hoped each student would be a credit to his or her house. Neville was pretty sure he would be more of a hindrance than a credit. After hearing the "qualifications" of each house, he was worried he wouldn't be accepted into any. _What happened if you were so useless, no house wanted you? No one ever talked about that._

Once the hat finished, the entire room erupted in applause. Neville tried to replay the hat's song in his head, attempting to commit the characteristics of each house to memory. Slytherin: cunning. Gryffindor: brave of heart. Ravenclaw: wit and intelligence. Hufflepuff: hard workers. By now, Neville was sure he would be a Hufflepuff. He hoped the hat would see what a good fit he was.

Once the applause died down, Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a piece of parchment in her hand.

**"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"** A girl appeared out of line and walked towards Professor McGonagall. She sat on the stool and the hat was placed on her head. Within a minute, it called out "Hufflepuff." The Hufflepuff table responded with a loud applause. Next a girl named Susan Bones was sorted into Hufflepuff as well receiving the same amount of applause. Neville began to worry. Already two people had been sorted into Hufflepuff. _Was there a maximum number of students that could be placed in a house? What if everyone before him was sorted into Hufflepuff and he ended up being thrown into Slytherin by default. What would Gran say? What would he do?_ _He was a pureblood, which was apparently a requirement to be a Slytherin, but he couldn't rely on that alone. Plus, with his lack of talent and ability he was often mistaken for a muggle-born…or a squib. _

Terry Boot's sorting into Ravenclaw calmed him a little. Maybe, there would still be room for him in Hufflepuff.

About five other students had been sorted. Neville was starting to get nervous. His time would be coming soon. The knot in his stomach from earlier had returned and his heart was beating rapidly. Hermione Granger was called to the stool and was sorted into Gryffindor. He swore he heard the red-haired boy next to him groan. He was sure Hermione would have been placed in Ravenclaw. He was quite puzzled by the hat's decision.

"Longbottom, Neville." It took Neville a few seconds to realize his name had been called. Afraid that Professor McGonagall would call his name again (she didn't seem very patient) if he didn't hurry, he tried to get to the stool as quickly as possible. In his haste, he took a misstep and fell over. Luckily, he was able to recover and pick himself back up. He didn't even want to think about the other students' faces. No one would be cheering for him now.

He sat down on the stool. The last clear thing he saw was professor McGonagall's face, slightly less angry looking than before, as she placed the hat on his head. He waited the minute it took the hat to decide, but…it didn't say a house name. Neville suddenly felt the urge to cry. He wasn't chosen. The hat knew that no one would want him and was speechless.

"Well isn't this interesting." Neville nearly jumped. _Was the hat talking to him?_

"_What?"_ he thought.

"Very interesting."

"_Just put me in Hufflepuff. Get this over with."_ He didn't want to be sitting up at the stool all night just because the hat thought he was interesting.

"Hufflepuff, you seem so interested in Hufflepuff. Why? It's not your family house."

"_Gryffindor is for the brave. I'm not brave. _

"You're braver than you think."

"_I'm scared of everything. Gran, that old bat next door, that enormous man who met us at the train, Professor McGonagall, everyone in school…"_

"You have potential."

"_That's what everyone always says, until I mess up."_

"What better place to prove yourself than school?"

"_I won't fit in anywhere else…I can't be in Slyth…"_

"Oh no, never Slytherin for you. Pureblood, you could be, but you are not a Slytherin. However Gryffindor…"

"_Please, Please Hufflepuff." _Neville ignored the hat. It didn't grow up with him. It didn't know him. It wasn't there every time he messed up or made a fool of himself. He would never be good enough to be in Gryffindor.

"I think, in time, you would do rather well in Gryffindor."

"_Just get me off this stool. People will think I'm too stupid you couldn't even put me in a house," _he begged starting to worry that Professor McGonagall might rip it off his head if the hat didn't decide soon. _"I'm not cunning, I'm not smart, I'm not brave, but I'm nice and I try hard. That's what Hufflepuffs do. I could do that. They take anyone,"_ he argued hoping he would sway the hat to choose in his favor.

"You do not give yourself enough credit."

"_Just get me off this stool…"_

"You're braver than you know, Neville Longbottom," was the last thing the hat whispered for on Neville to hear. The next second it bellowed, "Gryffindor!"


End file.
